


Basic Life Support

by letbygones



Series: Growing Pains [3]
Category: Promare (2019)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Derealization, Dom/sub, Drooling, Emotional Support Lio, Gags, M/M, Manipulation, Panic Attacks, Plot With Porn, Post-Canon, Praise Kink, Sub Galo, kink as a coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letbygones/pseuds/letbygones
Summary: You fall back asleep around 8am and dream of Kray Foresight, but that's okay.One day, you won't.
Relationships: Lio Fotia/Galo Thymos
Series: Growing Pains [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1605982
Comments: 8
Kudos: 131





	Basic Life Support

_BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP._

Eyes open. Hands out. Slam the alarm— the oldschool kind, because you don't trust your phone not to shut off in the middle of the night, and you've never been late to work in your life. You don't plan on starting now.

Lio stirs in his sleep, but rolls over and tucks his face into the corner of your pillow. He sleeps through most of your early starts, sometimes rising half-awake to sneak in the bathroom before you commandeer it for an hour. You never lock the door these days— not this far into your relationship, at the stage where it isn't so weird to talk through a shower curtain and a bowel movement— but Lio knows your territory at 5am belongs to bright lights and hairspray. You rise, get one last look at him, and shuffle your feet toward the coffee pot.

You fill the reservoir with tap water, count six scoops of Seattle's Best, and flip the switch. The coffee pot gurgles, and somewhere between rinsing out your travel mug and scooting your tired ass to the bathroom mirror, you feel it.

Chest tight. Hands cold. No real reason, but the cortisol floods your brain, spiking your heart rate as high as your Monday cardio.

You see yourself in the reflection, arms perching you upright against the counter on either side of the sink, and you know it's going to be one of _those days._

\---

Ignis sees it in the way you flub a 10-77, twenty minutes after you clock on. It's still too early for the sun, so you're halfway up a fire escape in the dark, trying to knock in a door with the brunt of your shoulder. It's a historical building on the west side protected by a national landmark registry, so your matoi tech is moot point. _"Always good to brush up on the basics,"_ Remi suggested when you deployed, and you realized just how much you missed the Promare's living fire.

And you _do_ know the basics, because you'd passed your certifications with flying colors, but once you're inside a hallway thick with smoke and angry orange flames, you freeze up.

What are you doing, again?

Your mind blanks out. You know you need to keep moving— you can still feel your feet, but they aren't yours. Your headset crackles.

"Galo. Is there an opening?" Aina asks, watching you through her radar. "What's the hold up?"

You watch as a window ten yards from you blows out. You squint through the haze, and for a second, it feels as though you're still asleep in bed. Old wood paneling catches flame. Despite this, the hallway's not impassable— dangerous, sure, but you're Galo Thymos, and you live for this stuff!

Don't you?

"Galo, come in," she repeats, and you take a step back.

"Tell me where I'm heading," you hear yourself answer, and though your heart is pounding, you shake off your moment of hesitation. Your legs reboot, and you push forward.

\---

When the occupants of the seventh floor are safely on the ground, daylight finally breaks. Ignis tells you to go home.

"What? Why?"

He's simple, compassionate, but firm. "We all have off days. Don't let it be your last."

And there's no arguing with him as you're driven back to the station and instructed to clock off.

Aina shoots you a look of sympathy. Supposedly, you're letting your phone charge in the common area before you leave, but you really know you're stalling. You aren't sure you want to go home at all.

"You okay?" she asks, popping slices of bread into the communal toaster. "Did you eat this morning? You look really out of it, Galo."

"I had a muffin," you tell her. "I'm fine, I just— like, y'know."

She shakes her head as she spelunks the fridge for cream cheese. " _'Like, y'know'_ what?"

"You know," you shrug. "Some days just get off to a rough start. I guess I'll hit the gym in a bit or something."

Lucia breezes by, ready to punch in at 8:15. She backtracks and pops the freezer open for Aina, proudly revealing the cream cheese where she'd left it the night before.

_Thanks,_ Aina squints. _Anytime, hot stuff,_ Lucia winks.

You use the opportunity to escape from the conversation before Aina gets all deep and worried about you. In a quick set of practiced moves, you unplug your phone, wrap the charging cable around a keychain, and stuff it back in your pocket.

"I'll catch you later," you say, and before she can protest, you're on your way back to your bike.

\---

Somehow, you don't end up at the gym.

Somehow, you're fifty miles past Promepolis city limits, parked and checked into the front of a Supermax penitentiary, explaining to the guards working the metal detector that you have a plate in your leg from a wipeout you don't entirely remember.

You're led into a waiting room, and you hope that you'll be stuck here long enough to rethink your decision to come, but you're admitted before you allow yourself that self-compassion.

He's steered inside by two guards, and then he's sitting across from you, unspeaking.

You don't know why you came.

You study his face, and in the pit of your stomach, you worry that he _does._

"You're recovering," he finally says, his face as placid as ever. 

You hesitate. "I am."

"They reported your hospitalization. I know better than to buy into media scares, but I wasn't sure you'd make it out with the same..." He pauses, and you feel his eyes on you. "Quality of life."

"Yeah, well, I'm walkin' just fine," you bite back. "No one tells me what I can or can't do."

Kray chuckles under his breath, and for a moment, you feel a warm familiarity. 

"No. I suppose you're right," he says, leaning back against the hard plastic of his chair. "You've never been one for limits, have you."

For a second, you think you feel the buzz of your phone against your thigh, but you remember you left it at the check-in desk.

Your hands have nothing to do as you stare at each other, listening to the ticking of the wall clock.

"Why are you here, Galo?" he asks, and your lungs light on fire.

It's a respectable question. You've only visited once before, against your better judgment. It'd been two weeks after Kray's sentencing, and some part of you wanted to know that you made the right decision— that you testified against him for a reason, that he deserved this. That it was okay to move on.

He'd told you not to come back. 

Your stupid heart was too empathetic for its own good. Your stupid brain was too thick to take no for an answer.

_"It's not your fault,"_ Lio'd told you, when you'd come back home feeling confused.

But now, you have no excuse. You had a panic attack this morning, and you should've known better than to act on any of your impulses afterward.

"I don't know," you answer Kray truthfully. "Maybe I just want to shove it in your face that I'm doing okay."

The former governor stares at you, and with practiced regality, he blinks in assent. 

"You're trying. I can see that." He leans forward again, close enough that you can see the new gray in his hairline. "I respect you more when you're contrary like this. Idol worship didn't suit you, Galo."

"Shut up," you say, before you can stop yourself. He smiles.

"That's the spirit," Kray says. You resent yourself for letting him get ahead.

"Don't give me that." The guards sway on their feet, ready to break up a fight if they have to. You take a deep breath to cool yourself off. "But y'know? You're right. I looked up to the wrong guy. I should be thanking you for teaching me what a bad example looks like."

His expression's unreadable. "And a good example, then? Are you the better man, Galo?"

You feel your jaw set. "I am."

"You are," he agrees, and you decide you _hate_ him. "Objectively speaking, you're the best man I've ever known."

"I don't need your opinion on the matter," you glare. It's hard to breathe under lights so bright, and you know he can see you struggling, but his face turns thoughtful. To your horror, it feels like home.

"Don't you?" he says, and your legs push you up and out of the room.

\---

Lio presses his nose into the crook of your neck as you cry. He's got his long, lean body wrapped around you on the couch, his hands wordlessly telling you over and over again how much he loves you. You feel his fingertips coast along the ridges of your spine, grazing gently down and back up again in an attempt to soothe you. Your face is hot. You ask him if he's mad at you.

"No," he says, and you don't believe him. He clarifies. "I'm mad _for_ you. Promise me you won't speak to him again." 

You can hear the _please_ that Lio doesn't say out loud.

You nod into his chest.

"I wish you would've called me after your shift," he says. "Aina shot me a text and said you took off. She sounded worried. I can see why."

"Stop", you groan, pulling your face back for air. "I get it, okay? I'm an idiot. I don't need to be reminded about my fuckups."

Lio softens, letting his hands settle on the curve of your butt. It's not sexual, at least not anymore, but it always makes you feel closer to him.

"You're not an idiot. I didn't mean to criticize you. I'm just— frustrated." He leans down and kisses your forehead, but he's still scowling. It almost makes you want to laugh.

"Hey, same," you say. You wipe your eyes with the hem of his shirt (or, realistically, _your_ shirt, that he'd pilfered). "I just wish I'd learn my damn lesson. Every time I see him, you know what he does? He tries telling me he's _proud_ of me or something. It makes me feel like shit! What does he want from me?"

Lio doesn't respond right away. He lets you work yourself up again, his legs gathering you close enough until the two of you make a human knot. You're starting to realize that sometimes, you like having permission to be small again.

"I don't know... what do you want from _him?_ " Lio finally asks. His voice is calm.

"I— guess—" you start, wild blue bangs falling into your eyes. Your hair had flattened hours ago, after you stuffed it in your helmet. "Damn, I don't know. Closure, I thought, but... that's not right."

"Do you wanna hear my hunch?" Lio asks, brushing a messy spike aside. 

You wait for the rest, until you realize it's an actual question.

"Oh. Uh, sure, shoot."

"You want approval," he says.

You feel yourself shaking your head. "No. Never. Not from him."

"Not from him," Lio echoes, hooking a gentle finger under your chin. He tilts your face up, offering a sad sort of smile. "Just. In general, I think. You're selfless to a fault. And fuck me if you aren't one for praise," he teases. You feel a little lighter, sort of.

So you push off him and sit back on your knees, not even bothering to cover up how vulnerable you feel right now. You couldn't hide around Lio if you tried.

"Yeah, okay," you reluctantly agree. "I GUESS. I just don't know how to stop seeking it out."

From the other side of the couch, Lio folds himself up and reaches for his tea. He takes a long sip and lets his eyes flutter shut.

"Who said you have to stop?"

\---

He's got you on your knees with your thighs spread apart, as wide as they'll comfortably go. He's quiet, but he moves with intimidation. It's a danger you trust, by now, and on the days you spend apart due to work or politics, you find yourself wholly _craving_ it.

"Open," he instructs, and your mouth hangs wide enough to fit in a Jennings gag. You feel the ratchet crank, _one-two-three-four_ clicks, and Lio looks at you approvingly.

"That okay?" he asks. 

"A-hah," you nod, testing it against your bite. "Yhh cah ghh orhh."

You're lucky Lio knows you well enough to parse that.

"More?"

You nod.

"One more," he agrees, and a final click leaves you open and ready.

You're already starting to forget why your eyes are crusty, but the uncomfortable feeling in your chest is still there. Lio was right. It was hard to explain, but you didn't simply _want_ his approval. Something deep inside of you— maybe your personality, you guess— it _demands_ that from him. 

You look at him and you desire nothing more than his happiness. You feel him ghost his hands down your neck, and you wonder if this is the kind of desperation Kray was talking about.

You disagree. There's a power surging in you. Maybe this kind of worship suits you just _fine._

"You look good," Lio smiles. "Can we get a little messy tonight?"

Again, you nod, as a familiar fire grows in your body.

Curiously, Lio steps around the corner into the kitchen and starts rummaging through the silverware drawer. Your heart skips as you assume _knives_ will be involved— but you haven't talked about that together yet, so Lio wouldn't, right?—

"A-ha," he says, and returns to your side a moment later. 

He's got a couple packs of honey from your last KFC takeout order. He looks you in the eye as he rips into one, gently instructing you to stick your tongue out. He cradles your jaw in his palm as your already-drying tongue waits for the honey to drip down—

It tastes sweet. You hum approvingly with your open throat.

And then you _can't_ stop _salivating._

Lio laughs to himself as you realize his angle. Your loud, proud tongue betrays you, and you feel a bit of drool leak out the front of your mouth. _Jerk!_ you try to accuse, but you can't speak around the contraption in your mouth, so you end up grunting out a giggle instead.

"Correction: you look _fantastic,_ " Lio teases, and you feel your face flush. "There's my good boy, Galo."

_Damn straight,_ you think in agreement, and you continue to laugh at yourself even as Lio pushes your head down. Your mouth pools, and it's _disgusting,_ to be honest, but you feel indescribably pleased.

"Sloppy," Lio comments as a string of drool hits his sock, but you can hear the melody in his voice. "You enjoying yourself?"

Desperately, you nod, your long hair falling in front of your eyes again. Lio takes initiative and fetches a hair clip from the counter. 

"Haank yhh," you tell him, free of your own bad hair choices.

"You can thank me in a better way," he suggests, before moving his foot to your unguarded crotch. There's no real pressure to it, just a gentle rub against your sensitive cock, but you're salivating all over your own boxer-briefs, and it makes your whole body shudder.

Lio pays attention to the way you grunt when he toes along your length, so he presses just a little harder. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you inhale your own spit, but you're Galo Thymos, and you're _no damn quitter._

Unfortunately, Lio knows better, so he stops to check on you when you launch into a coughing fit. 

"Aiiih HIINNE," you insist, catching your breath, but Lio raises a doubtful eyebrow.

"Can you breathe okay?" 

"Eshh," you nod furiously, needing to feel him again—

He instead returns to teasing you, praising your cooperation in ways that fill you up with pride and frustration all at once. Your cock is _aching_ by the time he tugs off your underwear, so he takes pity on you and sits in your lap. He's still fully dressed, so you feel the fabric of his leggings against your shaft as he grinds against you, scratching the back of your head appreciatively, telling you how _good_ you are and how _grateful_ he is—

You're tearing up again, and you can't explain it, but it's _nice_ this time. He kisses your cheeks as hot tears roll out, taking a trail around your open mouth. 

"It's okay, Galo. You're okay. You can cry," he says softly, so you do. "There you go. You're okay. You're so perfect," he tells you, his breath starting to thin as he finds his own pace against your naked lap. You eagerly rut against him, face growing hotter and hotter as you're _panting,_ but then he captures your mouth with his hands again, pressing his fingers against your tongue and your teeth, fucking your open mouth while you sob around him—-

And then he slides back as you cum with a _groan,_ your body hot and shaking, streaking yourself all over his black leggings.

He's kissing you everywhere. You feel him on your ears and your temples and your throat. You feel the ache in your jaw from the gag, but you're determined to ride out the last of this bliss for Lio's sake. He touches himself with his free hand between his muttered _good boys_ and _thank yous_ as you lick between his fingers in a desperate show of love and gratitude, and then he rides out his own orgasm with his teeth sunk against your collarbone.

You're tired and overstimulated, but there's a strength in your chest that wasn't there an hour or two before.

When he frees your mouth, you take a moment to wiggle your jaw around. Your tongue's gone dry again, but Lio, ever-prepared, passes you a water bottle.

"Thanks," you breathe, still coming down from the high.

"Yeah," he exhales, eyes closed. "You good?"

You've had a lot of things down your throat before, but none of them as _satisfactory_ as this damn water. "Yup," you nod, passing him the rest. He takes a swig too.

Lio looks as messy as you feel, but you catch his eyes, and he gives you a bleary grin. Your heart is ready to burst. 

"You were right," you tell him, and he raises a curious eyebrow. "I needed that."

"Thought so," he sighs, leaning back against the couch. "Any time you need to know you're important, you ask for it. No more of this Foresight business, okay?"

Your head is swimming, but you nod. "Okay." And then, again, for good measure, "Thank you, Lio."

He reaches across the carpet and finds your hand, taking it in his own.

\---

You're texted at 7am and told to take an additional day off, which annoys you, because you don't want Ignis to think you're slipping. 

Lio reminds you it's important to recuperate, and irresponsible to be saving lives when you're not at your best. 

You want to tell him you've spent years mucking through just _fine_ on the worst of days, but you get the feeling he can commiserate. Maybe he needs to remind himself to take a break as well.

You watch from your warm, shared bed as he blow-dries his hair in the bathroom. When he's finished, he tucks you in, kisses you goodbye, and grabs a bit of yesterday's coffee on the way out.

You fall back asleep around 8am and dream of Kray Foresight, but that's okay.

One day, you won't.

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory I Don't Actually Know How Maximum Security Prisons Work But I Read A Few Articles I Guess
> 
> Thank you for reading part 3 of Galo Thymos' Trauma-Rama, I love messy sad boys!
> 
> PSA if you're ever gonna play with a dental gag please ensure it has proper tooth protection <3


End file.
